


Good For You

by Jenye



Series: Masters of Disguise [2]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Fetish, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenye/pseuds/Jenye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy considers himself a hard worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good For You

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little series I'm starting. Honey, I'm Good is the first of this series. The one that started it all. You really don't HAVE to read it to now what's going on here. Basically just some shameless smut for our favorite couple. I hope you enjoy!

_Working late tonight.  Fucking terrorists._

 

Her fingers tug at the hem of her skirt, a little leather number that had her husband all but frenzied the first time she’d worn it several weeks prior, as she rereads his text message to her almost three hours earlier.  She clicks the screen off before sliding it back into her jacket pocket.  She leans against the wall and stares at her semi-blurred reflection in the elevator door. 

 

There was no denying this skirt was one of her best investments and pairing it with her sky high black stilettos for the evening made for an extremely appealing combination.  Her top was rather conservative in contrast: a white collared shirt she’d buttoned just high enough to make her cleavage only _slightly_ obscene and a royal blue blazer that she’d rolled the sleeves to just below her elbows.  Of course, no businesswoman would be complete without her black-framed glasses and cascading blonde curls clipped atop her head. 

 

She looks like such a fucking cliché that it would be comical if she weren’t so nervous. 

 

It wasn’t her appearance that caused her stomach to flutter with anxiety.  Oh no, she knew exactly what she had to offer and just how responsive her future audience was going to be toward it.  Her nerves came from this little charade she was attempting to pull off.  She had always considered herself beyond bold in her personal life — especially when it came to pleasing her partner — but this was completely out of her wheelhouse. 

 

She worries her bottom lip with her teeth as the elevator comes to a slow stop and a small bell dings above her, announcing her arrival to the proper floor.  With a bit more force than necessary, she pushes herself off the wall and heads down the familiar path.  Her shoes click against the bland tiles, their echo dancing around her in the silent corridor.

 

Stopping in front of the glass doors that reads TERRORISM ANALYSIS, her pause is only brief as she lets out a small sigh and enters with a renewed and slightly forced sense of confidence.

 

Fortunately it’s late and the desks in the center bullpen are all empty and several desk lights that have been left glowing only light the room itself.  Her attention is then drawn to a suited figure stalking toward her with a knowing smirk. He says nothing, just hands her a folder before walking out the door she just entered through.

 

It’s then she realizes her hands are sweating, but her focus goes back to the room in front of her and the office she knows sits in the far corner.  The blinds that hang on the window that looks over the rest of the room are drawn and the door is haphazardly closed, but the glowing evidence of occupation can be seen through the crack.

 

And her mission is again remembered as she starts toward the light like a beacon.  Her phone buzzes against her side and she pulls it out of her pocket to read the incoming text message.

 

_I want no more details on your future sexcapades, Doc.  You owe me big time.  Monty wants to see that movie coming out next Friday._

She has to place her free hand over her mouth to keep her laughter quiet, but she quickly sends back her response.

 

_You know we’d love to watch the twins anytime._

 

Again her phone goes back into her pocket and she’s just outside her destination.  Before she loses the last of her courage, she reaches up and taps on the wooden doorframe.

 

“Miller, I told you I’d get you the fucking statistics —“

 

“Agent Blake?” She interrupts, stepping into the office fully.  Her eyes wide with forged innocence.  She lets the room go silent as his eyes instantly drift down her body in the most obvious way. Her skin already tingles with anticipation and the electricity that fills the room is nearly palpable.

 

Bellamy slowly leans back in his chair, resting his elbows on the polished armrests.  His fingers lace together as his lips smirk with realization. “That would be me.”

 

“I assumed,” She nods, gesturing toward the door with his name on it. “Special Supervisory Agent Bellamy Blake. Has quite a ring to it.”

 

“Ah well,” He shrugs, standing up from his chair and its then she notices how good his pressed shirt looks against his broad shoulders.  His hands slide casually into the pockets of his navy pants as he walks toward her with such quiet confidence that it’s all she can do not to simply melt into him. “It works pretty well with the ladies.”

 

She expects him to stop to stand in front of her, but instead he moves past and toward the doorway she once stood in. Her eyes follow him, watching as he starts to push the door closed.

 

“Aren’t you married?” She asks.

 

“Happily.” He answers as the door closes with a resounding ‘click’ and she has to tighten her thighs when she hears the soft sound of the lock moving into place, her mouth going dry as he squares his shoulders to her.

 

“I — uh — well, I was just here to deliver some forms.” She clears her throat, nearly forgetting her act.  She holds up the folder she had just been handed and gestures it toward him. “Apparently I was supposed to have these to you earlier — sorry. I guess just blame it on the new girl.”

 

Bellamy takes the folder, but doesn’t even glance at it as he tosses it toward a smaller round table near the outer window of his office where she assumes he holds casual meetings with colleagues. She knows it’s probably just as well, she doubts Nathan actually handed her anything at all besides an official looking folder. 

 

“What’s your name?” He asks, starting to crowd her space as she slowly backs up.

 

“Clarke.” She chokes as the back of her thighs press against the smooth wood of his elaborate desk. 

 

“How long have you been here?” He’s still stepping toward her and Clarke’s eyes can’t help but gravitate toward the way the muscles in his arms flex as he moves his hands from his pockets to rest casually on his hips.  Of course her mind goes straight to the beautiful, defined V that exists just beneath the professional polyester of his trousers. 

 

She blinks, her mind coming back to their conversation even through the haze of her nearly overpowering need. “Um — this is my first day.”

 

The cool wood beneath her palms sends a chill through her as Bellamy again steps closer and she feels the rough material of his pants against her bare thighs.  As her eyes scan upward, stopping to notice the few undone buttons just beneath his collar, she is thankful for her torturous shoes.  Normally she enjoys their height difference, but right now she’s appreciating the way she can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat and the way his jaw clenches when she moves slightly, rubbing against him.

 

Slowly she feels his hands move to hold the lapels of her blazer and he’s tugging her gently to be flesh against him. Her hands move to grasp his biceps and the tension between them could be cut with a knife.  Her heart pounds with excitement and a low gasp escapes past her lips at his forward behavior.

 

“Then I suppose I should welcome you aboard.”

 

  When her blue eyes meet his brown ones she knows the game is completely off. He looks like a man starved and she’s more than willing to be his devoured first meal. 

 

His lips crash against hers in the most pleasant way and her hands hold fast to his arms as he makes easy work of moving her completely atop his desk.  Through her cloud of desire she hears several things smash to the ground around them and her giggles against his lips only cause his own laughter to rumble in his chest. But the mood turns when she feels his fingertips graze against her bare legs.  She moves her knees to come up around him and press into the sides of his hips, keeping him close to her. 

 

When Bellamy’s lips move from hers to run a sloppy line down her jaw and beneath her ear, Clarke lets out a moan and reaches up to remove the clip that had been holding her curls atop her head. She then makes quick work of the blazer she’s wearing and Bellamy shows his appreciation by dragging his lips across the bare skin of her collarbone. 

 

It’s barely hit the floor before she’s pulling at his shirt and starting the agonizing procession of undoing each button, but Bellamy isn’t about to be outdone and instead of working at her buttons he tugs and the little pearl snaps go flying.  She knows she’s too far gone by the fact that she doesn’t instantly scold him for losing yet another garment of clothing to his barbaric behavior.

 

“Another excuse to go shopping.” She coos against his neck before pulling him into another searing kiss. 

 

“Like you ever needed an excuse.” He counters right before his tongue meets hers in their small battle for dominance.

 

Soon Clarke has all of his buttons undone and she’s pushing the shirt down his arms only to be met with his white undershirt. She actually groans in frustration as she starts to tug at the nearly offensive article of clothing.

 

 “Someone’s eager.” Bellamy grins down at her before reaching for the collar of his t-shirt and removing it to be tossed and forgotten along with the rest of their removed items. 

 

“Just want to make a good first impression,” Clarke smirks, her hands and lips moving back to his familiar, and _gorgeous_ , body. “ _Agent Blake_.”

 

“Fuck _me_.” He groans, his hands grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of his desk. 

 

“I plan to.”

 

There will be no foreplay tonight, Clarke is certain neither her nor Bellamy could survive it.  She makes her intentions known by reaching for the belt around his pants. She undoes the brown leather with one hand while rubbing her other hand against the bulge pressing against the fabric.  Bellamy hisses his approval against her skin, his fingers ghosting against the skin of her abdomen just beneath her breasts.

 

She sighs as his lips kiss the tops of her covered cleavage before he reaches behind them and undoes the hook of her nude laced bra like a practiced professional.  The cool air of his office puckers her rosy nipples and Bellamy takes this opportunity to run his palms over them gently.  The sensation shoots straight to her already soaked core.  Clarke moans her approval as her head falls back and her hands grip his hips, pulling him closer to where she wants him most.

 

Once his belt is loose, Clarke undoes the button and zipper of his pants and wastes no time pushing them down his hips. Spitting into her own hand, she begins to work him in a torturous pace and Bellamy loses all sense of what he’s been doing as his forehead drops against her shoulder.  She grins at how possessively his hands grip on to her hips and he lets her work his cock with long strokes. 

 

But before long Bellamy has had enough of her motions and needs more.  He moves his hands to slide up her thighs and she assumes he’s reaching for the band of her panties and when he realizes what she’s known all along his groan is intoxicating.

 

“You’re going to be the fucking _death_ of me, Clarke Blake.” His lips on hers in a passionate kiss as he pushes up her leather skirt, revealing her bare pussy to the cool air of his office.  He bunches the material around her waist and she slides to the very edge of his desk. She angles her hips just so as he steps flesh against her.

 

When her bare breasts meet his chest she sighs at the connection.  For a moment there is a pause.  A tenderness. One that is always there between then, and sometimes it takes shape in their movements and in their stillness. Clarke rests her forehead against Bellamy’s and her eyes close contentment.  Her hand rests against his cheek and his lips find hers in a slow, sensual dance.

 

It’s then that Bellamy enters her. Fills her completely and Clarke’s mouth hangs open in a silent gasp of pleasure.  He stills for a moment, allowing her an unspoken moment to adjust, before he begins his shallow thrusts into her. 

 

This angle has always been one of Clarke’s favorites for the closeness they share, but also for the spots that it allows Bellamy to hit.  Her legs hike up to wrap around his waist as she moves to lean back against her hands. The pleasure she feels is only intensified when she sees the searing focus and pleasure etched across Bellamy’s face.

 

His eyes are dark with need and his jaw is clenched in that beautiful way that tells her he’s been twisted tightly for too long. His eyes are focused on hers before he glances down and becomes mesmerized with watching where they are joined. She groans particularly loud when he hits a certain spot and her head lulls back as she reaches up to pitch one of her sensitive nipples.

 

“Fuck baby.” Bellamy grounds out. “Your tits are amazing.  I could watch them bounce for days.”

 

Clarke hisses as he leans down and bites her other nipple. Her heels dig into his low back and he growls in response.  She pulls him deep inside her and the friction it causes against her clit has her crying out in pleasure.

 

Their coupling is frenzied and they don’t keep the same rhythm for long.  One minute Bellamy is making long, deliberate thrusts to Clarke crying out his name and the next he’s pumping into her at a bruising pace.   It’s not a smooth lovemaking session, but it’s exactly what they need and soon Clarke’s nearing the edge.

 

She reaches down between them, her fingers finding her dripping clit and Bellamy’s eyes never leave her fingers as he watches her rub inconsistent circles against the bundle of nerves. And within minutes she’s falling over the edge with a cry of pleasure.  And her walls are milking Bellamy’s release from him and his own orgasm rips through him as he bites down on her shoulder.

 

Neither of them wants to be the first to move. Clarke’s chest heaves against Bellamy’s and she feels him licking and kissing the spot he’d previously been biting. He’s still pulsing softly inside her and her stomach flutters.  They’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat and Clarke’s almost regretting the idea of wearing a leather skirt.  _Almost_. 

 

“If this doctor thing doesn’t work out,” Bellamy mumbles against her skin. “I really think you’ve got a future in office administration.” 

 

“You think?” She laughs, running her hands down his arms as he slowly moves out of her. 

 

He steps away from her only enough to pull up his pants that were still wrapped around his thighs.  She watches him with predator-like eyes as she starts to plan the rest of their evening once they’re home. 

 

They don’t speak for a while as they work to pull themselves back together, only stopping from time to time to kiss or leisurely enjoy each other.  It’s not until Clarke is to putting her blouse back on that she turns back to glare at Bellamy, waving the ruined garment toward him.

 

He laughs, just handing over his t-shirt. She shakes her head, but takes it. It’s too big, but she tucks in the front and under the blazer it almost looks like she could pull it off.  It’s not a complete walk of shame, but it’s the closest she wants to get. She’s about to walk toward the door when she feels Bellamy’s hands on her hips from behind.  He’s pulling her close to him and she leans into his chest.

 

“So is this a thing now?”

 

“A thing?” She asks, her fingers running up and down his arms.

 

“Does my wife have a closet roleplaying fetish?” His lips are on her neck and she can tell by his response that he’s completely accepting of the idea.

 

“I don’t think it’s much of a _closet_ fetish.” Clarke turns in his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. “Basically I’ll take you in any form I can have you.”

 

“Which is all of them.”

 

“Good.” She leans up to kiss him before pushing herself out of his arms and toward the door. “Now prove it.”

 

Bellamy grabs his suit jacket, following her out of his office.  Working late long forgotten.  He wraps an arm around her shoulders as he follows her toward the exit and echoes her earlier statement, “Oh I plan to.”

 

Clarke leans in to her husband and she nearly laughs when she remembers one small detail, “We’re watching Nathan and Monty’s boys this weekend.”

 

“There’s always a catch with you, isn’t there, Blake?” He laughs.

 

“Always.” She grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed. Please forgive me. All mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you have some "role" ideas for future installments!


End file.
